


let us be young

by lbk_princen



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Platonic Kissing, Pre-Canon, Sexuality Crisis, except not rly a crisis bc they both Know, well gansey is oblivious to his own bisexuality but hey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25214560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbk_princen/pseuds/lbk_princen
Summary: “Hmmm.” Gansey rubbed Ronan’s neck absently with his thumb. “I am not seeing anybody, currently,” he began.Ronan looked at him in the mirror, one eyebrow arched sharply. “So what? Are you asking me out?”~~friends help friends experiment with their sexuality, right? right.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III & Ronan Lynch
Kudos: 23





	let us be young

**Author's Note:**

> here's another oneshot i saved from my google docs graveyard. originally written in 2016

From where he was sitting at his desk, wireframes perched on his nose and journal laid out in front of him, Gansey heard the front door of Monmouth slam shut with more force than usual.

“I broke up with Caroline,” Ronan announced. He stomped up the stairs, and Gansey turned to look at him. Ronan had a carefully neutral expression, save for the slightly displeased arc of his eyebrows. He didn’t take his shoes off, or his leather jacket.

“Why?” asked Gansey, hugging the back of his chair. “Did you have a falling out?”

Ronan glared at Gansey, the kind of glare that was only reserved for Gansey, the one that said  _ I know you are trying to help but please do not _ . “You know why,” he spat.

“Ah,” said Gansey. “That.”

“Yeah,  _ that, _ ” Ronan growled. He was almost at his bedroom door.

“Wait just a moment,” Gansey called. Ronan paused with his hand on the doorknob. Gansey gentled his voice. “Would you like to talk about it? Does this mean you’re sure?”

Ronan leaned heavily on his door and ran a hand over his buzzed hair in a frustrated movement. He said nothing, which was enough.

Gansey’s eyes lingered on Ronan’s scalp. “You could use a shave,” he remarked. Ronan’s piercing eyes flicked up to meet his.

Shaving Ronan Lynch’s head was a borderline religious experience. It was a ritual that Gansey had performed since the first time Ronan had decided to get rid of his hair, and even when Ronan was angry, even if Gansey was disappointed in him for something, this was something that was sacred to both of them. So, Gansey got up from his desk and plugged the bathroom sink as Ronan shrugged off his jacket and brought forward the razor. It was a small, black, rechargable number that Ronan had purchased at the drugstore all those months ago.

Ronan braced his arms against the counter and tipped his head forward, over the sink. Gansey snapped the guard into place and switched the razor on. Both of them were silent for the duration. The razor glided through the new growth, guided by Gansey’s hand. He’d done this enough times to be confident he wouldn’t miss spots, but he still went slowly, being as thorough as he could. Up the neck, behind the ears, hugging the curve of Ronan’s skull. Scraps of dark hair fluttered downwards, contrasting with the white of the sink. 

When he switched off the razor, Gansey let his hand rest on the back of Ronan’s neck for a few moments longer. “You know it won’t matter to me, or to Matthew, or anyone else who truly cares for you,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“Then what are you worried about?” Gansey asked. “Since when have you cared about public image? Or is it a more… biblical reason?”

“People who say homosexuality is a sin can choke on their rosaries,” Ronan said venomously. “The devil couldn’t dream up something so pretty.”

Gansey took a measured breath. “I see.”

“I guess I’m just frustrated.” Ronan linked his fingers together and closed his eyes, still bent over the sink. “I’ve never been with a guy; I have no way of knowing if it’s any fucking better.”

“Hmmm.” Gansey rubbed Ronan’s neck absently with his thumb. “I am not seeing anybody, currently,” he began.

Ronan looked at him in the mirror, one eyebrow arched sharply. “So what? Are you asking me out?”

Gansey laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. I was merely about to offer that, well-” he fumbled for words, something that a Gansey never does. Ronan’s eyebrow arched higher, if it was possible. “I’ll kiss you,” Gansey finally said. “If you would like. If you are just seeking the sensation.”

For a moment Ronan was silent. Then he drawled, “You  _ are _ good at lip service.”

“Am I supposed to be offended by that?” Gansey asked mildly. 

“No,” Ronan sighed. He straightened up from the sink then, and Gansey let his hand slide off Ronan’s back to fall at his side. The single buzzing light of Monmouth’s washroom smeared illumination and shadow across Ronan’s face, outlining his edges in sharp, stark contrast. He was taller than Gansey by a fair amount, which Gansey typically forgot, until times like these came and he was reminded that Ronan Lynch was a force of nature.

Suddenly self-conscious, Gansey laid the razor down on the edge of the sink and intently rubbed at a water stain on the tarnished silver faucet. “Not here,” he said, examining his fingers for dirt. “Let’s retire to the main space.”

“Retire,” Ronan muttered, rolling his eyes. He turned on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. Gansey observed the way his shoulders hunched as he strode out of the cramped kitchen/bathroom. Gansey stared at the hair in the sink for a second, then reluctantly decided he’d clean it up later and followed Ronan.

“Come sit with me,” Gansey said, motioning Ronan over to his barely made bed. He perched on the end of it, and Ronan came to sit beside him.

“Are you sure about this, G?” Ronan asked. He seemed a bit puzzled.

“Sure as sugar,” Gansey replied. 

Ronan snorted, and turned his head away in an attempt to hide his smile. “God, you’re so fucking  _ southern. _ What a southern thing to say.”

“What would you rather I say?” Gansey asked with a touch of annoyance.

Ronan snorted again, softer this time. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Neither said anything for a stretch, which allowed Gansey a bit of time to think about this decision. He felt nervous, for some reason, even though logically he shouldn’t be. Rumours were certainly not a concern, for he had no plans to mention this to anyone, and he knew Ronan wouldn’t ever let it out either. He didn’t think Ronan had a crush on him (Gansey saw the way Ronan eyed the boy with sandy hair in their intro to Latin class - he would know if Ronan had a crush on him) and he knew for a fact he didn’t have a crush on Ronan. Gansey had an appreciation for the male form, certainly, and there were a few crew teammates he considered incredibly aesthetically pleasing- but that didn’t mean anything. Ronan was his best friend, nothing more.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ronan said.

“I am quite aware,” Gansey replied. “However, I made the offer, and if you want to experience what it’s like to kiss a boy, I won’t let my own heterosexuality get in the way of that.”

“Right,” Ronan said dryly.

Gansey pushed his hair back and adjusted his glasses. “Well, here we go, then.”

“Excelsior,” Ronan said mockingly.

Gansey smiled. “Indeed.”

They kissed. Gansey couldn’t remember who leaned in first, because as soon as their lips connected, it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. He’d had a girlfriend or two over the course of freshman year, and Ronan had dated Caroline for nearly two months. Neither of them were strangers to kissing, yet this still felt fumbled and uncoordinated as anything. Gansey pulled away first, when his wireframes started sliding uncomfortably down the bridge of his nose.

“Pardon me,” Gansey muttered as he tossed the glasses farther down onto the bed. “Shall we try that again?”

This time, Ronan’s hand came up to Gansey’s face, his fingers cool on Gansey’s neck and thumb resting lightly against high, square cheekbones. Gansey allowed himself to be drawn in, and that was much better; the kiss was smoother this time and a rhythm was established with ease. Gansey decided very quickly that Ronan had the potential to be an incredibly good kisser. He was almost disappointed when Ronan pulled back.

“Hm,” Ronan said.

“Hm?” Gansey prompted. “Was that helpful?”

Ronan set his face in neutral. “I’m not sure. It wasn’t all that different.”

“Perhaps this just needs further inquiry,” Gansey suggested. 

“You mean more kissing.”

Gansey shrugged, but his face felt a little warm. “It’s for science.”

Ronan’s eyebrow quirked. Gansey was beginning to hate that furry little bastard. “My science or your science?” Ronan asked.

“There is only one science, Lynch, and she is a mistress whose beckon we must heed.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Ronan rolled his eyes and shoved Gansey’s shoulder playfully. “Do you even hear yourself? Jesus  _ Mary _ .”

“Am I a bad kisser? Is that it?” Gansey asked, half-teasing, half-serious. He had been under the impression that he was a rather decent kisser.

Ronan shook his head. “Not at all. You’re just… You’re Gansey.”

“So I am,” Gansey said, perplexed. “Is that significant?”

“Let's just say you're not my type.” Ronan stood up, his hands sliding back into the pockets of his jeans.

“What are you going to do?” Gansey called after him. Ronan being gay was very much a non- issue, but Gansey worried. 

Ronan turned and kept walking, backwards. “We'll just have to see, won't we,” he said dangerously.

“Don't do anything stupid.”

Ronan rolled his eyes and opened the door to his room. “I can’t tell you I won’t,” he said truthfully.


End file.
